


You Don't Know This Now (But There's Some Things That Need To Be Said)

by IndigoNight



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Blow Jobs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hand Jobs, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-20 08:11:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4780142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndigoNight/pseuds/IndigoNight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky has a hard time with words, and an even harder time asking for things. Luckily, Steve doesn't mind waiting him out and giving him what he needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Don't Know This Now (But There's Some Things That Need To Be Said)

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a quick and easy cathartic piece, a month later... well, at least I finished it. Title taken from the song Hazy by Rosi Golan (listen to it, think about Steve and Bucky, cry a lot).
> 
> Enjoy.

It's a quiet night and Steve was on the verge of sleep when his door was gently nudged open. It'd been a quiet couple of weeks, actually, much to Steve's relief. So he's relaxed enough that he didn't immediately jump up or reach for his shield when the beam of dim light from the hallway intruded on the darkness of his bedroom. It also helped, he supposed, that he knew who it was without looking.

Bucky was silent as he crossed the room to Steve's bed, his bare feet not even making a whisper of sound on the carpet. Steve didn't move, he just waited patiently even when Bucky faltered slightly a few steps inside the door, as though working up the courage to proceed. It's been almost a year since Bucky had come to live in the Tower with him, since Bucky had stopped running away from him. Steve has learned, often and painfully, that in the wake of everything HYDRA had done to Bucky, it was best to let Bucky do things on his own time and without pushing him - in a lot of ways, Bucky now reminded Steve of a particularly skittish cat, not that Steve would dare say something like that to his face. 

It took a few minutes, but in the end Bucky silently closed the door behind him, casting the room back into darkness, padded across the floor, and very slowly crawled into the bed behind Steve. Steve waited until Bucky had slipped beneath the sheets and scooted, inch by slow inch up until he was pressed against Steve back. Bucky's nose was cold when he pressed it against the skin at the nape of Steve's neck and took a deep, slow inhale. Steve had never asked why Bucky did that, though he wanted to. He didn't ask where Bucky had been, either, though clearly it was not in the Tower based on the coldness that clung to his skin and the dampness of melted snowflakes in his hair. 

"Hey," Steve said quietly once Bucky had settled. He kept his voice low, in equal parts not wanting to spook Bucky and not wanting to break the peaceful stillness of the night. 

Bucky made a sound that wasn't quite a word and curled his metal arm around Steve's waist. It was even colder than Bucky's nose and the chill bit quickly through Steve's thin t-shirt, making him hiss softly before he could catch himself. 

"Sorry," Bucky mumbled immediately, starting to pull away. But Steve caught his arm before Bucky could withdraw it. He pressed a careful kiss to the metal plated knuckles and ran his hands, palms flat and broad, up the the arm. He was warm, wrapped up comfortably in his blankets, and the metal of Bucky's arms lost it's chill quickly under his touch. 

"It's okay," Steve reassured, just in case his actions weren't enough to prompt Bucky into settling down again. "Rough night?" This was not the first time in the past several months that Bucky had crept tentatively into his bed. It had taken a while, several weeks of Bucky hovering outside of his door, then standing uncertainly in Steve's doorway, until one night Steve had woken up to find Bucky curled in an exhausted heap on the floor beside his bed before Steve had convinced him he didn't mind Bucky sleeping with him when he needed to. Bucky still didn't do it every night, though Steve wished he would. But at least twice a week now Bucky would creep in just like this and curl himself around the curve of Steve's back. 

Bucky made that sound again that wasn't a word; it wasn't a yes, but it wasn't a no either. Steve shifted on the pillow, rolling carefully onto his other side so that he could face Bucky. It didn't make much difference, even his enhanced vision didn't allow him to see much in the near total darkness, but he wanted to give Bucky his full attention. 

Bucky didn't pull away, and Steve stamped down the flutter of relief he felt at that because more often than not Bucky did flinch away from him. "Want to talk about it?" Steve asked, even though he already knew the answer. Bucky shifted slightly, a small dip in the pillow next to Steve's head as he shifted a little closer. Steve was still holding Bucky's metal hand, and Bucky didn't try to pull it back, which was a good sign. 

"Can I-" Bucky started, but his words were slow and halting, his voice low and rough, like he had to tear each sound out from somewhere deep inside himself. "I want to-" he shifted again, his fingers twitching agitatedly in Steve's grasp. Steve didn't fully understand why, but sometimes Bucky _couldn't_ talk, and it hurt to listen to him struggling for it. 

Steve let go of Bucky's hand, shifting to run gentle fingers through his damp hair instead. "I'm going to turn on the light," he warned, because that was the deal. Steve would give Bucky anything he wanted, but he had to be able to see Bucky, to watch his face and gauge his reactions, to be sure he was doing the right thing. Bucky nodded against Steve's fingers, so Steve reached for the lamp that sat on his bedside table. He turned it on and the soft glow of a low watt bulb lit the room. 

Half of Bucky's face was hidden, mashed into Steve's pillow with the blankets tucked up to his chin. One eye peeked out, blinking owlishly at Steve through the loose strands of his hair. Steve couldn't help but smile as he settled back down on the bed, facing Bucky so that their noses were only inches apart. As much as he hated the inner demons that caused Bucky to wander the city in the dead of the night and creep tentatively into Steve's bed, the sight of Bucky tucked into his bed, all soft and shy tugged at something deep inside of Steve that he'd honestly thought had died when he'd watched Bucky fall from that train. Bucky spent so much time all sharp rage and defensive defiance, but not like this, not when the only thing between them was the gentle glow of the bedside lamp and the warmth of the sheets. 

Steve reached out, unable to resist, and pulled Bucky closer. "What can I do?" He asked softly, his thumb brushing over the rough stubble of Bucky's jaw. 

Bucky swallowed, the tight muscles in his neck flexing. He opened his mouth but no sound came out and he just licked his lips uncertainly. Steve waited patiently, content just to lay there watching Bucky breathe. 

"It's okay, Buck," Steve reassured. "Whatever you need, just take your time."

Bucky made a choked sound and surged forward, burying his face in Steve's shoulder. Steve was startled, but he caught Bucky easily, wrapping his arms securely around him. Bucky breathed raggedly and Steve rested a firm hand between Bucky's shoulder blades, grounding and reassuring as he waited Bucky out. 

They stayed like that for a long time, long enough that Steve almost fell asleep. More often than not, that was how this ended, Bucky quiet and pressed against him until Steve fell asleep. Steve wasn't sure if Bucky ever actually slept in his bed; no matter how hard he tried he always drifted off before he could be completely certain if Bucky was asleep or not. But sometimes Bucky needed more, and Steve just had to wait him out until he asked. 

Bucky twitched. Steve felt him shift and then the pressure of Bucky's teeth digging into the meat of his shoulder. Steve didn't complain, he didn't react at all. Bucky didn't put any force behind it, not even enough to really hurt, just the light pressure of Bucky's teeth gripping his skin through his shirt, holding on. 

"Can I suck your dick?" When Bucky finally got the words out they were so soft that Steve almost didn't hear him, muffled against the skin of his shoulder and the fabric of his t-shirt. Steve didn't actually need to hear him, because Bucky only ever asked for one thing, but it was important to him to hear the words anyway. 

They didn't talk about it. Steve knew that they should, that they needed to, but he had never been able to break the quiet confidence of the moment. He could never deny Bucky, not with that quiet edge of desperation in his voice, not when it took him so long to even get the words out. "Yeah," Steve agreed quietly, because as important as it was to him to hear the question, he knew Bucky needed to hear the answer. He carded his fingers through Bucky's hair, the strands catching in knots around his fingers briefly before smoothing out. "If you want to."

Bucky didn't wait for Steve to change his mind or say anything else. In one smooth motion he pulled away, dragging back the sheets and settling himself between Steve's legs. Steve pushed himself up so that he could recline against the pillows and watch Bucky. Bucky looked lighter, more comfortable than Steve had seen him since 1941 when he was curled up between Steve's legs. Steve didn't fully understand why, he didn't understand what this did for Bucky, but whatever it was, he'd do anything to keep that loose ease in Bucky's face. 

Bucky braced himself on his metal arm while his flesh fingers reached for the waistband of Steve's boxers. He lacked his usual precise grace, his fingers twitching as they curled in the fabric of Steve's boxers and pulled. Steve lifted his hips obligingly, helping Bucky pull down his shorts and toss them aside. The night air was cool and his dick twitched in anticipation of what was coming. 

Bucky didn't say anything, he didn't make a sound, and his face barely changed, but Steve could feel the shift in him as he settled between Steve's legs, and subtle release of tension that made something in Steve's chest correspondingly unwind. 

Bucky didn't waste time, keeping himself balanced on his metal hand while he gripped Steve dick with his flesh one. His grip was firm, but tender as he held Steve steady. Bucky's loose hair fell in front of his face as he leaned in, his tongue twirling a slow circle around the tip of Steve's dick before sucking it into his mouth. 

Steve let out a sigh, his head falling back automatically because Bucky was _good_ at this. He always had been, even when they were young and awkward and sneaking shy touches in the dark of the night. 

Bucky's flesh hand stayed steady and firm on the base of Steve's dick, holding him still as he slowly eased himself down Steve's length. Steve groaned, low and deep in his throat, his hands twitching at his sides. He couldn't see Bucky's face from this angle, Bucky's loose hair forming a curtain over his face and around Steve's dick. 

"Can I touch your hair?" Steve asked. He always asked; he had learned the hard way to always be careful, so careful, about how and when he touched Bucky. 

Steve watched the way the line of Bucky's spine stood out through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, the way Bucky's spine arched as he worked his mouth up and down. Bucky pulled off long enough to glance up at Steve, his pupils deep, dark and round in the low light. He licked his lips, red and wet, as he met Steve's eyes and nodded. 

Steve reached out, running his fingers through the strands that fell in front of Bucky's face. His fingertips skimmed just barely over the stubble on Bucky's cheek, tracing Bucky's jaw line, back toward his ear and into his hair. Bucky's hair was soft - it needed to be washed, but that didn't bother Steve - and though it was tangled the knots yielded easily to Steve's fingers. Steve didn't grab, didn't pull, he was careful not to exert any real pressure on Bucky's head, he just stroked his fingers through the strands. 

A shiver ran down Bucky's spine as he went back to work with enthusiasm. Steve tucked Bucky's hair back behind his ear enough to see the side of his face. Bucky's eyes were closed, his breath even and deep, and something warm and heavy settled in the pit of Steve's stomach. "Fuck, you're amazing," Steve murmured, the words dragged out of him like a sigh. 

Bucky made a sound, low and deep in his throat. He let go of Steve's dick, curling the fingers of his flesh hand around Steve's thigh instead as he opened his throat and sucked Steve deeper. 

Steve hissed, his hips rolling just a little bit. He let go of Bucky's hair, his hand traveling along the back of Bucky's head to his shoulder. He carefully bypassed Bucky's metal shoulder, skimming past the seam where metal met flesh without touching it - he knew better than to touch Bucky there. His hand landed instead on the smooth, warm skin between Bucky's shoulder blades, feeling the shift and stretch of muscle under skin. "Yeah, that's good," Steve moaned, "so good. You're so good."

Bucky shuddered and Steve felt it all the way up his arm from where his hand was spread across Bucky's shoulders. Bucky's mouth was tight and hot around Steve, his throat squeezing as he swallowed. His tongue was pressed flat, heavy against the underside of Steve's dick and it was nearly overwhelming to be pressed so close, so surrounded by Bucky. 

"God, Buck!" Steve groaned. His head made a soft thumping sound as it fell back against the headboard, his eyes falling closed without his permission. "I love you- I love how that feels."

If Steve's hand hadn't been resting on Bucky's breath he wouldn't have noticed the way Bucky's breath hitched, they way a shudder ran down the entire length of Bucky's body. It was enough to push some of the haze of pleasure away back to the edges of his mind. His eyes snapped open. 

Bucky's hair had fallen back in front of his face, but his hand was twitching where it rested across Steve's thigh, fingers curling and uncurling convulsively but not actually grabbing Steve like he apparently wanted to. His breath hadn't gone back to slow and even - controlled - like it had been, instead it was hitching and shuddering in his chest in a way that sounded suspiciously like sobs. 

"Bucky?" Steve asked, pushing himself up on the pillows. He pulled his hand away from Bucky's back, cupping his face instead, trying to gently urge him upward. Bucky complied with a gasp and a wet pop as he pulled off of Steve's dick. 

He didn't look at Steve, hunching his shoulders to keep his face hidden behind his hair. His body curled in on itself, automatic and defensive, pulling away, hiding- 

"Wait, Bucky-" Steve's voice was strained, the remnants of arousal mixing with a sudden wave of concern. "Don't go, please, just-"

Bucky froze, pushed up on his hands and knees, halfway to fleeing the bed. His head hung heavily between his shoulder, his back hunched and his breathing uneven. 

"Talk to me," Steve pleaded, very softly. He'd spent so long now, so long being so careful, never asking, never pushing, waiting for Bucky to come to him. But in that moment, in the quiet stillness of the night, he couldn't bear the thought of Bucky running away from him. He _needed_ to understand. 

Bucky went still, hovering uncertainly for several long minutes before slowly, slowly he lay back down. He settled back between Steve's legs, his head pillowed on Steve's thigh. His shoulders were stiff, but he tucked his face into Steve's thigh, just barely nosing at the base of Steve's dick, and curled a hand around the jut of Steve's hip. 

Steve swallowed thickly, and after a moment's hesitation he dropped his hand to rest it back in Bucky's hair. "What did I do wrong?" He asked quietly. 

"Nothing," Bucky said immediately, his voice low and a little hoarse. He shook his head to punctuate the denial, hair tickling at the inside of Steve's thigh with the motion. "It wasn't-" he broke off, words sticking in his throat. "I'm okay."

Steve forced himself to take a breath and let it out slowly. "What changed then?" He asked, because something had, somehow Bucky had gone from loose and relaxed to tense and nearly crying. 

Bucky didn't answer for several minutes. He was quiet, fingers stroking careful patterns in the soft hair of Steve's thighs. His breath was warm, blowing in light puffs against Steve's still hard dick, his nose just barely ghosting over the thin skin of Steve's balls. "You said-" he started eventually, voice slow and jerky, "it was- I-"

Steve stared hard into the shadows beyond the end of the bed, mentally replaying everything he'd said. "I said it felt good," he repeated slowly, "I said I love-" he stopped, biting his lip, "was that bad? Should I not have-?"

Bucky shook his head hard, sitting up before Steve could finish. "Not bad," he said, his voice firm like he was trying to convince Steve. 

"You were crying," Steve protested. 

"No I wasn't," Bucky shot back; it was defensive, but not angry. Regardless of what he said, his eyes did look suspiciously bright. He was sitting up on his knees now, kneeling between Steve's legs, and the soft glow of the lamp chased the shadows from his face, illuminating him clearly. His chest was still rising and falling in an unsteady tempo, and his cheeks were flushed red to match his swollen lips, both standing out sharply against his otherwise pale skin. 

Steve sat up fully, crossing his legs so that he could lean forward and reach for Bucky. To his surprise, Bucky let him, falling compliantly into his arms as Steve pulled him close. Bucky shuffled forward until his knees bumped against Steve's and he let Steve hug him, stooping down to press his face into the crook of Steve's neck. 

It was then that Steve realized the front of Bucky's jeans were tented. He could feel Bucky's erection through the fabric, pressing against him, and a part of him wants to laugh but a bigger part of him wants to cry. In all the months they'd been doing this, Bucky had never gotten aroused, had resisted any attempt Steve made to reciprocate, and had refused to explain why. Or maybe he hadn't had an explanation for why. 

"It just startled me, is all," Bucky mumbled into Steve's shoulder. "It hasn't- it doesn't-" he fumbled, words failing again. 

"Is this the first time you've gotten hard since HYDRA?" Steve forced himself to say the name, to finish his sentence, because someday they'll both have to stop flinching away from it. 

"The first time I remember," Bucky answered, and it was almost a laugh, dry and cracked. 

"Is that what you've been doing when you come in here? Trying to-"

"No." Bucky shook his head. "It's just nice. This... You and me and nothing else. I-I like making you feel good."

"You do," Steve said immediately, like a compulsion. His arms tightened around Bucky, one hand cupping the back of Bucky's neck, twisting in the hairs at the nape of his neck. 

Bucky shuddered again, a deep movement that ran all the way down his body. "Say it again," he whispered, voice rasping in his throat as his fingers - metal and flesh alike - dug into the fabric of Steve's shirt.

"What?" Steve blinked, half trying to pull back enough to see Bucky's face before he caught on. "You make me feel good, Bucky." He said it slowly and deliberately, turning his head to press his lips against the shell of Bucky's ear. "You are good," he added, because that was an important - perhaps most important - sentiment for Bucky to hear. 

Bucky's arms flex and tighten, just on the edge of painful, and he made a strangled sound that was somewhere between a moan and a sob. His knees shifted against Steve's, his hips making an aborted motion. 

In a sense, it hurt Steve to see Bucky have such a strong reaction to such simple words. He kept one hand on the back of Bucky's neck, but the other he dropped to curve around the base of Bucky's spine, uncrossing his legs so that he could pull Bucky fully against him. "You don't have to give me blowjobs to get me to tell you how good you are," Steve said quietly. It didn't surprise him that Bucky needed reassurance, that he needed - or even just wanted - to hear it, but the idea that he thought he needed to somehow manipulate Steve into saying it, that hurt. 

"I _like_ giving you blowjobs," Bucky retorted, and Steve was relieved to hear a note of old, familiar petulance in his voice, the echo of an unspoken _shut up, punk_. 

A laugh welled up in Steve's chest and he didn't fight it. It came out a low chuckle, ruffling the hair around Bucky's ear. Any chill that had been clinging to Bucky was long gone and his skin radiated warmth through the thin fabric of his shirt. On impulse, Steve shifted the hand that had been spread across Bucky's lower back, finding the hem of his shirt and slipping careful fingers under it. To Steve's relief, Bucky's arms just tightened around him fractionally and he pressed his lips to the skin of Steve's shoulder where it peeked out around the collar of his shirt. 

There was no denying that Bucky was still hard, his hips pressed up against Steve's front as he clung to Steve. Steve hesitated, almost afraid to call attention to it, but Bucky hadn't shut down or pulled away yet. In fact, he'd been incredibly relaxed and open so far, at least compared to how closed off and guarded he was all too often. So Steve dared to ask, "can I help you with that?"

Bucky sucked in a breath, his back stiffening just slightly. Steve couldn't see Bucky's face since it was still mashed into his shoulder, but he could feel the flutter of Bucky's eyelashes against his skin as Bucky blinked. "You don't have to," Bucky said quietly after a minute, and Steve couldn't help but laugh, just a little. 

"I want to," he promised. His fingers found the dimples at the small of Bucky's back, remembering how sensitive they were, hiw Bucky used to squirm and laugh when Steve kissed them. "I really, really want to."

Bucky swallowed, then nodded as he pulled away, sitting back on his heels. "Can I- Should I undress?" He asked. He looked so uncertain and Steve's chest ached the way it always did when Bucky asked for permission to do something that he shouldn't have to ask for. 

"If you want to," Steve said neutrally. This was a big step for Bucky, for both of them, and it needed to be Bucky's choice. 

Bucky hesitated, the fingers of both hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt for a long minute before he decisively clenched them and pulled the shirt up over his head. Steve was careful to keep his face neutral, even though he couldn't stop his eyes from lingering on the metal seam of Bucky's shoulder. He'd seen it before, a handful of times, but never so close and personal. The angry scars that spread out from the metal plating made his stomach clench, but he didn't want Bucky to feel self conscious about it, so he forced his eyes to linger across the rest of Bucky's chest instead. 

Bucky's eyes were heavy and dark on him, watching him, testing him, maybe. Slowly, giving Bucky plenty of time to refuse him, Steve lifted a hand to touch Bucky's chest, resting it just above Bucky's naval, fingers spread and stroking. "You're amazing, Buck," he said, and he didn't just mean Bucky's body. 

Bucky's breath caught again and there was a shiver in his eyes and the way his lips twisted up just a little. God, how had Steve never noticed before how Bucky reacted to praise, how it affected him?

"Will you-" Bucky started, words jerky and strained. He leaned forward, fingers hesitating at the hem of Steve's shirt and it was okay that he couldn't get the words out because Steve understood him without them. 

He nodded his assent, leaning forward enough so that the shirt wouldn't get stuck against the headboard. "Go ahead," he confirmed. 

Bucky was careful enough to make sure that the shirt wouldn't get tangled over Steve's head, and then he tossed it aside carelessly, letting it join Steve's shorts on the floor. Steve was left completely naked, not that he minded, the cool air serving as a nice contrast to the warmth pooling in his chest. 

"Can I take your pants off?" Steve asked, his hands reaching for Bucky's belt but not touching without consent. 

Bucky nodded, his eyes staying on Steve's face as Steve unbuckled his belt. 

It was awkward to get Bucky's pants off, since he was reluctant to move from his position kneeling between Steve's legs. In the end, Bucky ended up standing on the bed while Steve pulled him free of the rest of his clothes. He stumbled slightly when his toes got caught in one of the pant legs, nearly falling onto Steve. Steve had to catch him quickly, hands landing on Bucky's hips and guiding him down as Steve lay back for Bucky to land on. It was ungraceful and they both laughed breathlessly - it was a mistake the Winter Soldier would never have made, but that Bucky was beginning to allow himself.

The result was that Bucky ended up very much naked in Steve's lap, one hand planted on Steve's chest to support himself and the other clamped over Steve's hand on his hip. 

Bucky leaned in, lowering himself just enough to kiss Steve, breathless and smiling against his lips. It wasn't the first time they'd kissed since Bucky had come home; the first time they'd been fighting, Steve desperately trying to break through the storm of rage and fear and self-hatred that had been threatening to consume Bucky when Bucky had shoved him against the wall and kissed him until it hurt. Since then Bucky had used kisses in lieu of words when he needed to express something and he just _couldn't_ say it any other way. But it hadn't become a part of their everyday interaction, and Steve cherished every kiss Bucky offered. 

The kiss started deep and hungry, and Bucky followed it with short, light kisses to the corners of Steve's lips and up the line of his jaw. "How do you want this?" Steve asked, quiet and breathless, his fingers tightening around Bucky's hip to pull him closer. 

Bucky's fingers tightened over Steve, metal twining around flesh and he dropped his head to rest on Steve's collarbone. "Touch me," he said hoarsely, "just... touch me."

Steve nodded. He pressed one more chaste kiss to Bucky's before shifting. He secured his arm around Bucky's waist, leveraging him over until he lay on his side with his back to Steve's chest in a mirror of their position when Bucky had first joined him in bed. He wedged one arm between Bucky's shoulders and the pillow, his hand curled around to rest on Bucky's chest. His other arm settled comfortably over the curve of Bucky's hips like it was made to go there. 

He hesitated, drawing back enough to hastily grab the tube of lotion in his bedside drawer. He fumbled a little in flicking the cap open and squeezing some onto his hand while his other hand was pinned under Bucky, but he managed it and tossed the tube carelessly aside. Once his hand was slick and ready he settled his arm back across Bucky's hip, his fingers finding the fine trail of hair that ran down Bucky's lower stomach and skimming through it to reach his dick. Bucky wasn't fully hard, Steve knew from experience, but he was thick and heavy in Steve's hand when Steve's fingers curled around him.

Bucky made a sound, low in the back of his throat and his body jerked against Steve's. He fisted his right hand in the sheets beneath him, his left hand twisting around so that metal fingers dimpled the soft skin of Steve's hip. 

"Bucky," Steve whispered. His chest felt tight and it almost hurt to breathe now that he finally had Bucky warm and needy and plaint in his arms. For so long he'd thought that he'd never get to have this again, and yet there they are. 

"F-Fuck, Steve," Bucky answered. He shuddered, his hips jerking against Steve's hand. And that was all either of them needed to say. The rest of their words came in the way Bucky's fingers flexed on Steve's hips, the way Steve held Bucky to his chest as tightly as he could, the quiet gasps and moans that came choked and shuddering from Bucky's throat, and the careful press of Steve's lips on Bucky's shoulder. 

Steve was slow and gentle, keenly aware of the knowledge that Bucky probably hadn't had release in over seventy years. As it was Bucky was shivering and shaking in his arms, making quiet, desperate sounds. They both knew he wouldn't last long. 

Steve kept Bucky tight against his front, using the incredible strength he possessed in just one arm as a gentle restraint. Bucky had never in his life felt so grateful to be restrained, like Steve's arm was the only thing saving him from shaking right out of his skin. 

Bucky panted and pleaded into the night air around them. He wasn't sure if he was actually making words or not, but it was the most he'd been able to express himself in so long, for as long as he could remember, really. 

Steve didn't mind. He drank in every sound Bucky made, burned every moan, every squirm and thrust into his memory. He did his best to be gentle; no doubt the stimulation after so long being deprived was overwhelming, and he did his best to ease Bucky into it. When that failed he held Bucky close, giving him something warm and solid to ground him. "I've got you," he murmured, low and reassuring in Bucky's ear. "You are safe, and good, and loved."

Bucky orgasmed hard, burying a choked scream into the mattress and his metal fingers leaving bruises where he clung to Steve's hip. Steve didn't care, he just held Bucky until the shaking stopped and Bucky went limp in his arms. 

Neither of them moved for a long time, Bucky's shaky breathing and Steve's slightly calmer counterpart the only sounds in the dim room. Eventually Bucky shifted, rolling over carefully in Steve's arms to face him. Steve caught sight of what looked suspiciously like tears in Bucky's eyes when they caught in the light from the bedside lamp, but Bucky didn't let him get a closer look, instead pressing forward to bury his face in Steve's shoulder again. Steve kept his arms around him, one hand palm down, fingers spread across the small of Bucky's back, the other once against straying to curl in the soft strands of Bucky's hair. 

"What can I-" Bucky faltered, his voice cracking and stuttering briefly before he got it back under control, "-I do for you?" Bucky's fingers began to reach down Steve's body, answering his own question. He reached for Steve's dick, though his erection had some time ago wilted from inattention. 

But Steve shook his head. He caught Bucky's hand, twining their fingers together instead. "I'm okay," he said. He hadn't been particularly inclined toward an orgasm before Bucky's arrival, and since Bucky's needs had been met in other ways, Steve didn't particularly feel the need for now one. He was far more interested in Bucky staying put exactly where he was; warm and limp and satisfied in Steve's arm. "Just... stay." For once it was Steve's turn to falter over words, to have to push them from his throat. He tried so hard not to push Bucky, not to ask him for anything he might not want to give. But this one thing he desperately, selfishly longed for. Because usually Bucky didn't stay - every time before that Bucky had crept into Steve's bed in the depths of the night, seeking things he only knew how to ask for with actions in dim light, he always crept away again, just as quietly, before Steve woke up. "Just... be here, when I wake up."

Bucky swallowed, something thick clicking in his throat as he pressed himself tighter into Steve. He nodded, and Steve didn't need to see it because he could feel it all the way down his body, the way Bucky nodded and pressed himself against Steve as if trying to disappear into his body. "Okay," Bucky confirmed quietly.


End file.
